<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A little rain by alberich (rancours)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830215">A little rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rancours/pseuds/alberich'>alberich (rancours)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>League of Legends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - K/DA (League of Legends), Alternate Universe - True Damage (League of Legends), F/M, K-pop References, Light Angst, lmao i look like a clown writing this ship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:35:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rancours/pseuds/alberich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ahri can picture it now: an impertinent young boy, wearing a grass-stained middle school uniform and a messy ponytail, spreads out his legs, refusing to give away the last possible spot on the train bench. Yasuo had been the bane of Ahri’s existence back then; but for some reason he’d always go home by train whenever the rain was pouring and Ahri was holding back tears after a difficult day at practice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ahri &amp; Yasuo (League of Legends), Ahri/Yasuo (League of Legends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Very tempted to title this fic "Trainy Weather." Actually, the rain-and-trains motif wasn't intentional, but after I realized, I started working with it.</p><p><em>I'LL SHOW YOU's</em> concept video really gave us great insight into K/DA Ahri's character, and now I'm chin-deep in a bunch of new idol!Ahri headcanons. I tried incorporating them a little here.</p><p>After the release of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4L0OkSrsI8">KOTSB</a> I honestly fell in love with the Yasuo/Ahri ship. I wanted to find new YasuAhri fics to read until I realized I'm gonna have to supply them myself ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p><p>* In the K/DA universe Ahri and Akali are Korean, so I have Akali refer to Ahri as "unnie" sometimes. I've also scattered a little bit of kpop industry culture and Korean terms just because lmao</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>you’re off the project.</em><br/>
<em>if you’re not going to support my dream, then you shouldn’t be a part of it at all</em>
</p>
<p>Last conversation: four months ago. It’d been the last thing she’d told Yasuo. On late nights spent alone in the recording booth long after the sound of zooming cars had faded away with the hours, Ahri would gather herself on the couch and do nothing but stare hard at the text. He’d left her on read, but to Ahri it was Yasuo’s way of giving her the last word, and it made her mad.</p>
<p>She wishes she could come up to him and give him a final piece of her mind: no, she isn’t apologizing; absolutely <em>not,</em> this isn’t bothering her at all, not anymore. Those would’ve been better options to holler instead of the things (way out of the confines of playground insults) she’d called him that summer.</p>
<p>Ahri’s standing outside the performing arts building, huddled in an oversized gray hoodie and glaring furiously at the bitter message on her screen through her shades. It’s chilly at 6:30 in the morning, especially in the gray city. Ahri swipes her phone and dials a number while her feet hop to and fro on the sidewalk. “Hi! Morning,” she murmurs. “I’m already here. You think they’ll let me in?”</p>
<p>“Oh, hey! Yeah, they should recognize you,” Kai’Sa’s voice always manages to sound chipper, even in the early morning. “I’ll ask them to give you a key next time so you won’t have to stand out in the cold.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.”</p>
<p>With a sigh Ahri pushes through the double doors, and the lady at the reception desk leads her up two flights of stairs. Winter sunlight filters in through the dance studio’s glass windows, reflecting off the shiny vinyl flooring. Shrugging off her hoodie, Ahri spreads out her arm and leg in a stretch while her eyes wander to the reflection of the bustling street below.</p>
<p>Although she’d rather all the girls have a habit of arriving to practice extra early just as she did, Ahri liked having a studio all to herself. Being surrounded by mics or leaning on a barre gave her a quiet space to think, to reflect — something she found, to her chagrin, herself doing often these days.</p>
<p>She’d only had about fifteen minutes of self-meditation before K/DA’s dancer and rapper bustled in. Akali’s blonde ponytail bobs up and down as she chatters to Kai’Sa, her head turning to greet Ahri quickly in Korean. Ahri half-returns it.</p>
<p>“Seems Eve’s gonna be a little late,” says Kai’Sa as she fiddles with the music speaker. “Traffic, probably.” A familiar, bubblegum-infused pop tune reverberates through the studio and shoots electricity up Ahri’s veins.</p>
<p>“I recognize this song,” Ahri mutters, absentmindedly shuffling her feet in a step ball change. It evokes images of the lollipop-scented, pink sparkle glam of her early days — they’re bittersweet memories.</p>
<p>“Course you do,” Akali falls into step behind Ahri, waving her arms in a warm up. “It’s your debut song.”</p>
<p>“Does it bother you? I can change it,” Kai’Sa, always considerate of others’ feelings, rubs the back of her neck sheepishly, but Ahri only smiles.</p>
<p>“Don’t matter, it’s Throwback Thursday! Play Hello Bitches next!” Akali cheers as she nudges Ahri in the shoulder, but she pulls back reluctantly when she receives no reaction.</p>
<p>Facing the mirror squarely, Ahri wraps her hair up into a ponytail. For some odd reason, she’s eager to start. “Let’s do this, girls,” she addresses the reflections in the mirror.</p>
<p>“Eve?” The group’s resident devilish diva had not yet arrived.</p>
<p>“Present, my dears,” The doors open to a platinum blonde woman in glittered silver sweatpants five minutes later. Evelynn swipes off gold-tinted shades with her claw-like manicure and sighs. “Finally.”</p>
<p>“Was it bad?” asks Kai’Sa while she selects a song from her phone.</p>
<p>“Unbearable, even at this hour! One almost comes to loathe the beltway, if it weren’t an excuse to show off cars.”</p>
<p>Kai’Sa laughs in reply. Sucking in an impatient breath, Ahri starts the count, and soon the heavy, futuristic sound of <em>The Baddest’s</em> trap beats fill up the room and lift Ahri into motion.</p>
<p>Evelynn joins the formation eventually; Akali’s whooping excitedly to various parts of the song. Ahri wishes she could match her energy, but her spirit isn’t up for it. Instead, she focuses on the way her sneakers squeak on the floor and how her ponytail swishes from side to side, five six seven eight a constant echo in her head.</p>
<p>Akali’s still humming her rap solo after choreo practice ends. At the other end of the room, Ahri stares at her phone screen again, brows furrowed. Noticing, Akali ambles over to her, peering over the girl’s shoulder and glancing only once at the notorious text message. “See you in the booth later, unnie,” smiles Akali after Ahri had finished glaring up at her. “In the meantime, though, 고기구이?”</p>
<p>9:30 — that’s what Ahri’s phone says. She has a photoshoot at two and the studio’s a forty minute train ride away, but perhaps she has time for a meal. Ahri nods vigorously, glad to have one more thing to distract her from that cursed contact on her phone, and the recording session to come later.</p>
<p><em>“Yes,”</em> Akali cheers, shutting the studio door behind them. “Kai’Sa, you coming too? Korean barbecue, I mean.”</p>
<p>From the bottom of the stairs Kai’Sa shakes her head regretfully. “Got an interview with PopRox in thirty minutes.”</p>
<p>“Guess it’s just us then,” shrugs Akali — and noticing Ahri lagging inattentively behind, she pulls the girl into the street by the arm. When it doesn’t effect even so much as a protest (just Ahri opening up her phone again), Akali mentions mischievously: “Heard Arirang BBQ just released a new series of tropical fruit sundaes. Wanna try?”</p>
<p>At last Ahri looks up.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>⁎ ⁎ ⁎</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>There’s a small scatter of people sitting at various booths when they enter the restaurant, though Ahri suspected the place would start bustling pretty soon. Akali whistles when she opens up the menu, impressed by a new addition to the restaurant’s vast assortment of dishes and platters. “Look, unnie — the bulgogi and dakgalbi combo platter is 30% off!”</p>
<p>“Let’s get that one. And order the strawberry sundae too. We’ll split the check.”</p>
<p>Ten minutes and four barbecue selfies later, the girls’ plates had been filled with meat. “You happy with Kai’Sa’s choreo?” Akali casually waltzes into small talk as she rearranges beef on the grill.</p>
<p>“Hm? Oh yes, it’s perfect…although I think we should tweak one tiny part in the chorus. I’ll text her.”</p>
<p>Ahri reaches for her bag to get her phone, but decides against it — it’s silly, but she hated texting these days. “You happy with the song, Kali? Tell me before it’s too late to rerecord.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, the song’s bomb as it is. My lyrics are just right.”</p>
<p>“Can’t imagine how you’d managed to write them in only three days.”</p>
<p>Akali replies with a laugh. “Hah! It came easy to me. The writing process is different for everyone. Oh, speaking of…” she eyes Ahri from beyond the rim of her plate, chopsticks pointed. “How’s your solo coming along?”</p>
<p>Her teeth immediately lose the motivation to chew when she hears the question. Gulping, Ahri replies slowly, “It’s getting along.” This question is loaded. She can sense it.</p>
<p>“That’s it?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” She doesn’t mean to mumble, but she does.</p>
<p>Brows furrow as if Akali doesn’t believe her. “Thought this was your passion project.”</p>
<p>“Admittedly, it’s going a lot slower than I hoped.” Because of various reasons, but Ahri doesn’t think she needs to tell Akali that. “But as you said, the process is different for everyone.” The other girl nods like she understands, but Ahri knows Akali’s doubting her words and it takes another mouthful of grilled beef to placate the annoyance bubbling up in her stomach. She isn’t about to snap at Akali and further expose her distress.</p>
<p>“Mhm.” Akali swipes at the grill. “You been revising at home then? ‘Cause I don’t see you at the booth often nowadays.”</p>
<p>Ahri cringes at this obvious ploy to get her to start talking; Akali’s the one out of all three girls who knows the most about what happened, but Ahri’s stubborn, and she sets her lips straight in a defiant line. “I’ve been…revising.”</p>
<p>“Can’t wait to hear it then! Although I don’t see exactly why you had to…” Akali stops herself, realizing the hurt expression on Ahri’s face. “Is it going badly?”</p>
<p>“It’s going horrible!” Ahri has to stuff another mouthful of meat into her face to stop it from crumpling. Concern gracing her brows, Akali reaches over and nudges Ahri’s hand with a chopstick. “Ah, c’mon. Don’t worry too much about it. I’m sure the new lyrics will sound amazing! And if it doesn’t we could always go back to the–” but Ahri’s already calling over a waiter to order her sundae, so Akali presses her lips shut.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>⁎ ⁎ ⁎</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Twenty minutes later Ahri’s huddling on the train platform, eyes upturned to the cloudy gray sky. Akali had zoomed away on her motorcycle long ago, heading for a meetup. The voice on the intercom — <em>please stand back from the edge of the platform, until your train comes to a complete stop</em> — echoes like static in the still, chilly autumn air.</p>
<p>Ahri scans the dark-haired mass of indistinct strangers as the doors open, and she thinks, with a little wonder, she might spot a girl with shoulder-length black hair wearing a performing arts academy uniform step off the 1:00 train.</p>
<p>But she doesn’t, and she’s shoved through the train doors before she has time to clutch her bag. She wobbles onto the train and searches for an empty seat, but the car is packed. Instead, Ahri settles for standing in the aisle, not two feet away from two middle school kids hunched over in the corner near the door.</p>
<p>She smiles when she notices the emblem on their white sweaters: the performing arts academy had seemed like a bleary memory to her, but as soft rain starts to patter on the window sepia memories evoke. <em>The forecast didn’t say rain.</em></p>
<p>“It’ll clear up eventually,” is the first thing Ahri’s manager says once she scurries across the sidewalk to the studio. “C’mon, sweetie, the photographer’s all ready.”</p>
<p>Being surrounded by yards of taffeta and lace isn’t such a bad thing, but her thoughts keep pulling her to the raindrops racing on the windowpanes. Ahri sighs, for the hundredth time today it seems, then positions herself on the set for a snap.</p>
<p>“A little to the right, Ahri. Yeah, yeah– stay right there. Left leg up a little bit– good–”</p>
<p>Golden eyes wander to outside. It’d gotten really dark, as if it were night, even though the clock overhead said 4:30.</p>
<p>By five it’s pitch black and Ahri’s eyes feel almost as droopy as the fake rose on the hem of her dress. “Thanks for coming in today,” staff tells her. “Sorry it took longer.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, I enjoyed it! Good job everyone,” replies Ahri, scrolling through her contacts. She dials up a number in hopes of getting away with an outing to the karaoke bar, or something. She absolutely does not look forward to the recording session.</p>
<p>A cheerful, boisterous voice assaults her eardrums from the other end of the speaker. “Hey! You haven’t called in a while! Missed me or something?”</p>
<p>“Hey, Ezreal,” A faint smile lights up Ahri’s face. She listens quietly to her former labelmate’s chatter — the group is doing well; Soraka has a solo project now, can you believe it; hell no I’m not dating Lux, and if you joke about this to the press I’ll sabotage your next comeback. She perks up when she hears her name poised in a question.</p>
<p>“Ahri, you doin’ all right?”</p>
<p>She hesitates. “…Of course. Is life okay in League Ent? I heard the Star Guardians’ variety show is doing pretty well.”</p>
<p>“Heh, yeah. We’re having fun. I kinda understand what you told me now, about what it’s like to really put yourself out there on the screen.”</p>
<p>“So the idol life is all you’ve hoped, huh?”</p>
<p>A chuckle sounds from the speaker. “Yeah, just a tad exhausting is all. And you,” Ezreal sounds like he’s in a cafeteria munching on some salad. “Is girl group life all that you’ve hoped? I heard K/DA’s got an EP in the works!”</p>
<p>“Yep, we’re halfway finished. The title track is sure to be a hit.” Ahri dashes out underneath the canopy outside the studio, looking up reluctantly at the storm clouds thickening like a black wall in the sky. “I’ve got a solo on the EP to work on too, but it’s draining up all my…”</p>
<p>“Uh-oh,” murmurs Ezreal from the other end. “What’s wrong this time?”</p>
<p>Ahri exhales — unlike Akali or Kai’Sa, she had known Ezreal for much longer, back when he was a trainee and she was his senior. They weren’t in the same label anymore, but he was a little brother to her. Sure, it’s odd; but she felt much safer confiding to someone close who didn’t know any details, as long as she was vague about everything. “I just– I just want the song to be perfect.”</p>
<p>“As always.”</p>
<p>“The production’s fine, everything’s fine, and I’m pretty sure I would’ve finished recording it about two months ago if it weren’t for…the lyrics, I…” Ahri scratches at her arm, anxious for Ezreal to reply. </p>
<p>“The <em>lyrics?”</em></p>
<p>“Mhm.”</p>
<p>“Are you saying you <em>changed</em> them?” Ezreal sounds genuinely surprised. “But you and Yasuo worked so hard on–”</p>
<p>She’s almost tempted to hang up. The other end goes quiet for a moment; then Ezreal continues, more softly this time. “I thought something important had inspired those lyrics. They were amazing — at least, the ones you’d shown me. Is Yasuo still on production?”</p>
<p>Biting her lip, Ahri considers lying and telling him yes, he’s still on it. But she doesn’t. “No, he’s off.” She won’t let herself entertain the idea of telling Ezreal why. A distant thunder clap makes her jump, and the modest drizzle turns into a downpour as Ahri jogs across the street towards the train station.</p>
<p>“That’s too bad,” whispers Ezreal, and he sounds genuinely mournful. “Sucks. I thought you really worked well with him. Before he was your producer he was your biggest supporter, y’know? Reminds me of that time he encouraged you to start writing your own songs after that scandal…”</p>
<p>Ezreal falters on that last bit, and Ahri can almost feel the heat of his blush radiating from the other end of the line. She lets the corners of her mouth turn up in a slight smile at the memory: about five years ago, when she was still a soloist in League Entertainment, a humongous rumor had spread that she was dating the new debut Ezreal after photos of her giving the then-sixteen year old directions to the bubble tea shop circulated.</p>
<p>It was hilariously ridiculous, not really that much of a “scandal”; but at the time she was an impressionable girl of nineteen, only a rookie herself, and the sudden attention had terrified her. It’d been more attention than she’d ever gotten in her four-year career — and not the good kind.</p>
<p>It was Yasuo who’d convinced her to sit down and write her experiences into a song after everything was over. She was so proud that she wanted it to be her next single; but her draft was promptly denied, reasons being too melancholy and unfitting of her bright, innocent image.</p>
<p>The memory sinks to the back of Ahri’s mind, allowing her to ponder Ezreal’s words. How ironic, she finds herself thinking. It’s just like Ezreal to bring something like that up again.</p>
<p>“Anyway, whatever happened to y’all, I’m sure it’ll turn out perfect just like you want it in the end.”</p>
<p>She would not tell Ezreal or Kai’Sa who had little to no idea, nor Akali and Evelynn who had the details, the wicked truth. Yasuo, that fool. He had told her he loved her, knowing full well she would not let <em>anything</em> — not a new scandal, nor the hidden feelings in her own heart — jeopardize her hard-won dream.</p>
<p>How could she bear to sing her heart out to those lyrics knowing what it really meant to the both of them?</p>
<p>“Thank you, Ezreal,” Ahri whispers, hanging up the phone at last. Ducking underneath the platform shelter, she wrings water out of her slick blonde hair and once again finds herself nostalgic.</p>
<p>Where is she headed? To the recording studio on South Boulevard. To record a track that she wrote, to put on an EP that she produced with her own girl group. Living the dream, Ahri supposes. It’s a completely different life than what her fresh-faced, sparkly-eyed fifteen year old self had been living.</p>
<p>She’d graduated from girlhood to womanhood with a set of six inch heels and a coming of age performance previously refused from her. Oh yes, the new Ahri wasn’t wearing pink tennis skirts anymore, but one thing hadn’t changed. Deep down, she was still wide-eyed, ambitious, and afraid, and up until four months ago she’d had a childhood friend by her side.</p>
<p><em>Please step away from the platform</em> — once again Ahri looks for a timid girl in an academy uniform. The commute by train hadn’t changed either.</p>
<p>Except for one thing: Yasuo had been there. Ahri can picture it now: an impertinent young boy, wearing a grass-stained middle school uniform and a messy ponytail, spreads out his legs, refusing to give away the last possible spot on the train bench. Yasuo had been the bane of Ahri’s existence back then; but for some reason he’d always go home by train whenever the rain was pouring and Ahri was holding back tears after a difficult day at practice.</p>
<p>She wonders if she’ll see him today. The car smells of musk and raindrops, after all. It’s a perfect day for a train ride.</p>
<p>There’s an unoccupied seat near the window, a perfect spot to lay her head and drift off to music piping through her earphones. Ahri gingerly sits down and studies the gloomy city skyline when a silhouette suddenly blurs into the panorama of misty gray buildings.</p>
<p>Yasuo’s dyed his brown hair silver; for once he isn’t wearing his mask; and to top it all off, he’s clean-shaven. Ahri stares at him from the corner of her eye and tries not to shift for fear of catching his attention. It’s too late, though; Yasuo catches her stare, his lips parting only just a bit before averting his gaze. Ahri opens her mouth to say something but decides against it, pressing her forehead against the window instead.</p>
<p>
  <em>Where is he going? Why is he on the train? Is he heading for…</em>
</p>
<p>After she’d ordered him never to show up again and he’d complied for the past few months?</p>
<p>As if he’d heard her thoughts, Yasuo murmurs, “I’m just moving out my stuff from the studio.” As one of K/DA’s producers he was there all the time, so much so that he practically lived in the recording booth. Ahri whips her head around, surprised to have heard him speak, but she nods her head in reply. “Fine.”</p>
<p>The train ride is surprisingly quiet — Ahri’s glad for the rhythmic clicking sound of the tracks and the shuffling of newspapers and umbrellas filling the silence between them. And it’s surprisingly <em>long,</em> too. Longer than usual. Perhaps it’s the universe’s way of nudging her to get up and face him, say what she wants to say — she’s not apologizing, she’s unbothered. But she’s content to stay silent and furtively observe him from behind her shades.</p>
<p><em>Ladies and gentlemen, Star Station, Star Station.</em> The woman beside Ahri gets up. And then Ahri does a strange thing — with a reluctant bite of her lip, she shifts over. “This seat’s empty,” she whispers to Yasuo. The man looks over and frowns at the empty space beside her, but sits down, a respectable distance away.</p>
<p>Ahri fumbles with the handle of her bag until she annoys herself and fumbles with her hoodie strings instead. <em>What are we doing here?</em> She wishes Yasuo would say something, but for as long as she’d known him he’d never been the type to initiate conversation; and if he did, she’d probably just get mad at him anyways.</p>
<p>Yasuo only stays silent, his eyes furiously studying the cuff of his gold jacket.</p>
<p>She isn’t about to spend the next fifteen minutes in silence, so Ahri clears her throat and angles her body to face him. “Hey.” Yasuo looks up.</p>
<p>“I won’t be so cruel as to take your name off the credits, but you’re not producing another song on All Out any more.”</p>
<p>The man nods. Anger flares up in Ahri’s chest.</p>
<p>“I don’t care if you badmouth me to the press, or whatever, but I don’t want someone like you working with my group.”</p>
<p>Yasuo turns his head away. Her mouth downturned in a frown, Ahri continues, “I just don’t understand why you had to go and do that to me. You knew how important this comeback — K/DA — is to me, and you knew how I felt about– how I felt about…”</p>
<p>When Yasuo doesn’t reply, Ahri swallows back a gulp. “How I felt about everything! But most importantly this song. Yasuo, how dare you? How could you…”</p>
<p>
  <em>Ladies and gentlemen, last stop at Crystal Station. Crystal Station. This is the last stop, Crystal Station.</em>
</p>
<p>Ahri yanks Yasuo’s sleeve, her golden eyes staring down Yasuo’s confused brown ones. ‘“How could you say that to me?”</p>
<p>Yasuo’s brows furrow as if he doesn’t quite understand. Inside, Ahri’s mind is daring him not to answer, but her heart is begging for him to just say something. It sounds like such a stupid question, but she wants him to explain why. Explain those words he’d said that summer, when they’d been photographed walking out of the hotel late at night and she’d had to scream at her manager to make StarNet take the photos down.</p>
<p>His mouth opens and Ahri only half-hears what he tells her. <em>“What?”</em></p>
<p>“Because it was true.” Yasuo’s deep voice rises only slightly in volume. “Every word.”</p>
<p>Her mouth parts, she gets up, and stomps off the train. Ahri doesn’t look back when Yasuo gets up after her. “But you knew how I felt,” she says bitterly. “You knew what was important to me. And yet you played me like a fool.”</p>
<p>“I thought,” Yasuo whispers, “I thought you’d felt the same way–”</p>
<p>“And I <em>did!”</em> Ahri cries out, her head whipping around angrily. “At least, I think so…but I– but I wasn’t about to risk anything for…not when my true career just took off. I wasn’t ready! I was scared of what they’d say about me! So <em>damn scared…”</em></p>
<p>She presses her lips together in an effort to keep tears from mussing her mascara. Rubbing her arms to compose herself, Ahri walks away, stopping only once to look back over her shoulder. “Thanks for the suggestion, Yasuo.” Her voice is steady and cold as steel. “The original lyrics were great. But now I feel like rewriting them.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Yasuo mumbles, keeping his distance as he follows her to the studio.</p>
<p>“I hope they’ll be true, then. Every word.”</p>
<p>That’s when Ahri stops. For the second time she notices the downpour, and she wonders why she hadn’t realized how drenched they were both getting after they stepped off the station. She lifts up her head, letting the raindrops splash on her face and soak through her hoodie until she feels the chill in her bones. Yasuo lingers behind her, as if anticipating Ahri to turn around and yell at him.</p>
<p>“Really,” whispers Ahri. Yasuo cocks his head, curious.</p>
<p>Evelynn and Akali are hanging out in the parking lot when they arrive, and Evelynn pulls down her shades in amusement when she sees Yasuo stalking behind Ahri. Akali raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “Booth’s open,” she says, jerking a thumb towards the entrance. “I thought you’d might wanna move out your stuff, Yasuo, so I put them in a box. They’re in the hallway.”</p>
<p>Yasuo nods his thanks and barely misses Ahri slamming the door in his face.</p>
<p>He checks the box in the hallway and, seemingly having found something missing, follows Ahri into the recording room. The whole time she avoids eye contact, but as she steps in the vocal booth Ahri says flatly, “Since you’re here you might as well start the track.”</p>
<p>Wordlessly Yasuo sits down at the dashboard and presses at the buttons. Akali and Evelynn waltz in just as the opening synth chords resound. Taking a deep breath, Ahri presses the headset against the sides of her face and begins.</p>
<p>Ahri can her hear voice, lovely and crisp, echoing in the vocal booth — but a sinking feeling overcomes her that’s only made worse by the odd stares on her audience’s faces. Huffily ordering Yasuo to cut the music, she snaps, “What? Do you hate my songwriting or something?”</p>
<p>All three share a look. At last Evelynn pipes up, “They’re very nice lyrics, dear — your writing talent really shines through — however…”</p>
<p>“We thought they’d be…<em>different,”</em> Akali interjects, rubbing the back of her neck.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, different?”</p>
<p>Yasuo stares at Akali, who stares at Evelynn, and noticing no one else has the guts to reply Evelynn says, “It’s the message, love. You told us this was your passion project, that I’ll Show You was a very personal song to you. I’m just not sensing this in these lyrics, Ahri. Now, I’m all for charming men and eating up their hearts — that’s quite devilish of you — but I can’t find the true Ahri anywhere.”</p>
<p>Ahri holds back a scoff. “The <em>true</em> Ahri.”</p>
<p>“Whatever floats your boat,” Akali shrugs. Beside her, Yasuo quietly taps a rhythm on the dashboard.</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare ruin this EP,” declares Evelynn. “Change these lyrics.”</p>
<p>Almost a decade of friendship had made her used to Evelynn’s bluntness, so Ahri gives in with a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do. Someone give me a pen and some paper.”</p>
<p>The three in the room look around but find none. Shoulders slumping, Ahri runs a lazy hand across the keyboard and couch behind her when something in the trash bin catches her eye.</p>
<p>It’s a piece of paper with words scribbled onto it, and Ahri recognizes it as the abandoned lyrics of her song. She frowns at the paper as she uncrumples it, floating over slowly to the mic as she ponders the haphazard blots of ink — ink she’d penned down in her journal while curled up in her window sweat, sipping a mug of tea and mulling over soft, faded memories.</p>
<p>“Unnie?” calls out Akali. “Is that– are those…”</p>
<p>“Someone, play the chorus.”</p>
<p>Ahri inhales and lets the music swell through her chest. Realizing something, Evelynn ushers Akali out of the room, leaving just Yasuo and Ahri.</p>
<p><em>I’ll show you what I’m made of</em><br/>
<em>Rise to the occasion</em><br/>
<em>Got fears but I face them, oh</em></p>
<p><em>And I’ll show you what I’m made of</em><br/>
<em>A heart full of fire</em><br/>
<em>Looking at a fighter…</em></p>
<p>When Ahri looks up, Yasuo’s face is lit up in a grin.</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>⁎ ⁎ ⁎</p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Her chest feels clean once she’s finished belting out the last line and the music fades away. Yasuo claps softly as the song ends, and she can’t hold back her smile. “That’s a wrap,” he says.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” replies Ahri softly. “A wrap.”</p>
<p>It’s still raining when the two of them exit the studio, though Ahri’s only fairly surprised. It’s not as heavy as it’d been a few hours ago, but she wishes she had brought along a raincoat.</p>
<p>Yasuo rummages through the box in the hallway and shakes out a red umbrella. He steps by her side without a word, neither denying her nor inviting her to come underneath. But Ahri understood perfectly.</p>
<p>They amble silently into the night, city lights reflecting on the puddles of water and illuminating their path. Ahri matches step with Yasuo, her shoulder brushing his, and by the time they arrive at the train station it’d felt like a lifetime’s worth of conversation had just passed between them.</p>
<p>The train car is barely occupied, yet Yasuo still opts for standing in the aisle while Ahri gets a seat. She presses her cheek to the window, shutting her eyes against the glare of neon skyscraper lights. “Yasuo,” she breathes.</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“I was just so afraid to step into that booth again, but I don’t know what for.”</p>
<p>She can feel the low vibration of Yasuo’s hum as she shifts. Patting the spot beside her, Ahri invites him to sit, and he accepts. “Yasuo, I…the song…”</p>
<p>“What about it?”</p>
<p>“I truly love it. It’s perfect.”</p>
<p>He smiles a smile that reaches the corners of his eyes. “Of course it is. It’s yours.”</p>
<p>Her golden eyes glitter shyly. “You helped me write it.”</p>
<p>“How so? It was all your lyrics.” Ahri shakes her head, her gaze downcast. “When I first wrote that song,” she begins, fingers fumbling with the hem of her hoodie, “I was thinking about myself as a young girl. When I was still naïve and scared of the world. How I felt so excited, but so nervous that I almost made myself sick.</p>
<p>“Trainee days were hard, y’know? I had the singing ability, I guess, but my dancing was horrible, and they told me I just couldn’t express my emotions well enough through my voice. I was competing with so many other hopeful girls; I got yelled at and was criticized on everything from my height to the shape of my legs…yet I never let myself cry. I had my dream to look forward to, and I just couldn’t give up.  Those were on sunny days, though. On cloudy, rainy days however…it was harder for me to hold my tears in.”</p>
<p>Ahri timidly peeks up at Yasuo through a curtain of thick eyelashes. “And yet, I liked those better than sunny days. Because on those days, when I’d get on the train…you were always there. I think I forgot that for a while.”</p>
<p>She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t looked twice, but pink spreads across Yasuo’s cheeks and ends at the tips of his ears. Ahri giggles, running a finger through the silver bangs falling over Yasuo’s forehead. “Ahri…” the man whispers, but shuts his mouth when his voice comes out in a measly squeak.</p>
<p>Their silence is interrupted by a train announcement, and Ahri moves to rest her head on Yasuo’s shoulder. She doesn’t have to say anything more; she’s content to let Yasuo have the last word. The stretch of quiet that follows afterward is wonderful, and she’s glad that no one else gets on the train. Ahri makes music with the <em>click-click</em> of the tracks and focuses on the soft rise and fall of Yasuo’s breathing.</p>
<p>Yasuo’s staring straight ahead, allowing Ahri to study his profile. He’s certainly different from the schoolboy she’d met on the train — the adverse effects of having an alcoholic mother and losing his big brother had roughened the line of his jaw, and yet it had smoothed out his manners and outlook on life. Many things about Yasuo had changed, Ahri realizes. But one thing hadn’t.</p>
<p>Before he was a producer or a DJ or an unwanted crush or a tabloid headline, Yasuo was her very best friend.</p>
<p>Ahri beams at the city’s reflection as it zooms by in streaks of blue and orange. It’s a perfect day for a train ride.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tumblr: <a href="https://aceneji.tumblr.com/">@aceneji</a><br/>league: tooru milkbread (ahri main &lt;3)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>PROLOGUE: Four o'clock train</strong>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>He decides he likes the scent of rainwater on clothes.</p><p>There’s no bus stop near Yasuo’s neighborhood, so there’s really no reason for him to use the train after school. The next stop is five miles away from the dingy, cigarette-scented hovel that’s supposed to be his house. It takes him an extra hour or so for him to loop back. Long ago, if he hadn’t been met by his mother cursing, then Yone would’ve been there to knock him upside the head for coming home late.</p><p>Yasuo never had a real reason for taking the train back then; but now, the bleary, listless crowds just make him feel less alone. The train cars smell of newspapers and wet leather when it rains outside, but his favorite scent is of rainwater soaking his school uniform.</p><p>He wonders if trains could go on forever; that if he just sat there long enough, he could leave everything behind. If Yone were here now, he would reprimand Yasuo for trying to run away.</p><p>If Yone were here now, Yasuo would agree. He focuses on the dull patter of the raindrops and the clicking of the tracks as if it would push the images of sirens and broken glass and bloodstains out of his mind.</p><p>Hands absentmindedly travel to his earphones. The murmur of the train car is briefly interrupted by an announcement — <em>please stand back from the sliding door</em> — and a rush of new people bustle in. From behind his brown bangs Yasuo notices a girl in a white polo shirt and plaid skirt, standing nervously near the sliding door while her hands rub at her arms.</p><p>Yasuo scoffs to himself — she looks pathetic crouching there, and extremely confused. She’d better get used to standing in the aisle.</p><p>The girl’s golden eyes scan the train car, and for a startling moment Yasuo thinks she’s locked eyes with him. Instead, the girl timidly makes her way over to the space right next to him. Upon closer inspection, the girl looks about thirteen — his age — and  he can see the performing arts academy’s logo on her shirt, partly hidden by her black hair.</p><p><em>An idol trainee?</em> Yasuo snorts, and in a show of great chivalry spreads his legs to take up two seats. He watches her eyes: they grow wide with surprise at first, then they flash with annoyance. “Um, excuse me…can you please move your legs?”</p><p>He pretends not to hear her, waiting for her to walk away. When at last she finds a spot near the edge of the door, Yasuo’s startled to hear a faint sniff coming from her direction.</p><p>She isn’t facing him, but her cheek is resting against the pole, and Yasuo still senses it’d been her. <em>Is she…crying?</em></p><p>Yasuo’s eyes keep wandering back to the girl standing in the aisle, despite a conscious effort not to. He wouldn’t exactly say he was <em>intrigued,</em> but the girl obviously had a story.</p><p>Kind of like him.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>⁎ ⁎ ⁎</p><p><br/>
</p><p>A week later the rain comes once more. Yasuo fiddles with the ancient iPod his brother had given him, selecting a random song to distract himself.</p><p>He’s running away again. This time, from after-school detention.</p><p>The train car is packed, yet the crowd is oblivious to the stains on Yasuo’s jeans and shirt, the scuff on his cheeks and eye, how his ponytail is disheveled more than usual. He picks out a twig from his hair and lets it drop to the floor along with a muttered curse.</p><p>Yasuo closes his eyes and drifts to the vibrations pulsing in his ear. But when he opens them again, she’s there.</p><p>The girl — Yasuo can’t think of another name — has her back to him, with her shoulder leaning on the pole to his right. A paper is in her hand, and he can tell without craning his neck that it contains song lyrics. He must’ve been staring too long at the way her lips mouth the words on the paper, because she looks back and frowns. Yasuo whips his head around to hide his blush, surprised that she’d recognized him.</p><p>What he doesn’t anticipate is her doing a double-take. “Uh– are you okay?” she asks, looking up and down at the bruises on his arms, concern gracing her features.</p><p>Yasuo pouts, pulling his arms into his shirt. “Why do you care?”</p><p>Her lips pull down in a stern frown. “Just curious, that’s all.”</p><p>
  <em>Just curious, huh.</em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>⁎ ⁎ ⁎</p><p><br/>
</p><p>He can’t remember the last time he’s seen the sun — which is odd, because according to the calendar it’s July.</p><p>But he doesn’t mind the downpour, nor the train rides. He prefers them over walking lately, despite the longer commute home. When he sees the girl stumbling onto the train car again, he isn’t shocked one bit. It’d become almost a routine for the both of them, whether she’s realized it or not. He’d catch the 3:45 from Fifth Station, rain or shine; the girl would board at Crystal Station at 4:00, when she did. For some reason she’d only show up when the day was extra gloomy.</p><p><em>She’d been crying,</em> Yasuo realizes when she steps on, noticing the faint streaks on her face illuminated by the dim overhead lights. Her eyes lock with his for a split second, flashing in anger when she realizes he’d seen. The girl takes her usual place in the aisle right in front of his seat and crosses her arms. Yasuo blinks — is that a bruise?</p><p>The girl slides her arm through the sleeve of her pink sweater. It definitely is a bruise.</p><p>Yasuo figures they’re acquaintances now, so he leans over and taps her on the shoulder. “You okay?”</p><p>She’d gotten used to being annoyed by him, so she shakes her head. “It’s not like it’s serious or anything.”</p><p>“Heh. What kind of dance moves are they teaching you over there?”</p><p>Her eyes travel up at the overhead handles for a moment as if they’d suddenly become extremely interesting. “Well,” she sighs, “When you’re Ahri the wannabe try-hard, extremely impossible ones.” Yasuo raises a brow, fascinated — and slightly concerned. “Is that why you always go home crying?”</p><p>He doesn’t realize his mistake until he notices the horrified expression on the girl’s face. Ahri — now he knows her name — gapes at him for a second, but shuts her mouth tight and regains composure just as the crowd disembarks the train.</p><p>“You– you notice?” Ahri’s voice is barely above a whisper. Yasuo nods somberly.</p><p><em>South Station, South Station.</em> This is where she’s supposed to get off.</p><p>“Just so we’re both clear,” Ahri hisses, heading for the opened door, “that was the rain on my face.”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>⁎ ⁎ ⁎</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Yasuo found Ahri consuming his thoughts more and more, and as midsummer faded into early autumn he nearly started praying for the clouds to gather. With rain came Ahri; she had became the sole reason he walked to the station at all. He fantasized sometimes about what her life was like — the bits and pieces of her story she brought with her on the train car soon became not enough. And sometimes, he wondered if she were curious about him too. </p><p>He wouldn’t have to wait long to get an answer, though. One day, Ahri sat down beside him — he hadn’t refused her the spot — and asked him his name.</p><p>“Yasuo,” he’d said.</p><p>“I’m Ahri.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>She was an idol trainee, going on fourteen in about four months, and she was set to debut in about a year or so as long as she impressed her managers. She had been scouted at an audition and her dream was to become a famous pop star and sing, although she wasn’t sure what kind of songs and she was very, very scared. What about you, <em>Yasuo?</em></p><p>He’d taken a deep breath. He was thirteen, same age as her, and he’s supposed to be in middle school but expected to drop out soon and get into bar fights in various towns, until someone recognized his talent for fighting and hired him as a DJ/bouncer instead. He lived with his mom — no, he didn’t have a dad — and he used to have a big brother; no, he didn’t want to talk about what happened to him.</p><p>They’d discovered something else, too; and how the universe had managed to bring two seemingly polar opposites together they still did not know. But it hadn’t mattered much to Yasuo — he’d found a friend, someone to share his dreams with, even if for only fifteen minutes.</p><p>“You wanna be a <em>DJ?”</em> She sounds genuinely astonished, like she’d never thought it conceivable that a boy would want to become a DJ. Yasuo shifts uncomfortably at the outburst, suddenly interested in rubbing the scuff from his sneakers onto the floor. “So?”</p><p>“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Ahri huffs. “It’s just…I thought boys your age wanted to make money by playing video games or something.”</p><p>“DJs make money.”</p><p>“But I didn’t know you liked music.”</p><p>An irritated eyebrow twitching, Yasuo rests his chin on his palm and glares out the window. “I like <em>making</em> music. Which is why I really want to become a producer — y’know, make song demos and have people use them?” he pauses, then stares at Ahri with questioning brown eyes. “Are you gonna laugh or something?”</p><p>The girl’s black fringe swishes vigorously from side to side.</p><p>With a sigh he continues. “Huh. Besides you, Yone was the only person who never mocked me. But what the hell…my mom would probably never let me, anyways. I don’t think she even can. It’s not like she has the money to send me to some special school like yours.”</p><p>Ahri stares at Yasuo for so long that he has to clear his throat to make her stop. “You won’t make it if you don’t try. Besides, when I’m famous,” — Ahri stretches out her arms — “I’ll need someone to make beats to match my lyrics. They need to be flashy and unique and <em>inspiring,</em> too.”</p><p>It’s Yasuo’s turn to stare. “You really think you’ll debut?”</p><p>“Don’t see why I can’t.”</p><p>Frowning, Yasuo mutters, “But you always seemed so…I don’t know. Afraid. Idol training must put you through hell. How have you not given up yet?”</p><p>
  <em>Ladies and gentlemen, South Station. South Station. Please step away from the sliding doors.</em>
</p><p>The boy barely hears her answer the first time, but once it reaches his ears the corners of his mouth lift slightly. “Because the train rides afterward are worth it,” she’d said, with a secret pink blush dusting her cheeks.</p><p>She gets up and only turns her head once to wave him goodbye. “Until next time, then.”</p><p>Yasuo’s still smiling long after the sliding doors had closed. He presses his forehead to the window. <em>Please, I hope it rains tomorrow.</em></p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>